A Song of Bravery



to this day, I have written two hundred seventeen poems.

two hundred seventeen poems.

two hundred seventeen little bits of my soul.

two hundred seventeen poems written on happy days, two hundred seventeen poems written on sad days and rainy days and sunny days.

two hundred and seventeen poems about bravery and hope and worth and grace and mercy and love.

two hundred and seventeen poems written for God, for myself, for you.

two hundred and seventeen poems written to inspire, to encourage.

two hundred and seventeen poems that mark a journey.

a journey of bravery, of uncovering my identity, of realizing what is my purpose.

a journey of becoming who God made me to be. brave.

two hundred and seventeen poems.

thousands of words.

thousands of words that didn’t even exist 365 days ago.

two hundred and seventeen poems.

and out of these two hundred and seventeen poems, seventy-three have been compiled into a collection.

seventy-three poems.

seventy-three little songs.

seventy-three songs that tell stories of worth and love and grace and redemption.

seventy-three songs different from one another.

seventy-three songs, different, but together they are one big song.

a song that says, “here I am.”

a song that is the proof that dreams come true.

a song that tells the world, “hey, I’m here. blooming. bold. brave.”

a song of bravery.

you can buy my first collection of poems, A Song of Bravery, on Amazon Kindle by clicking here.

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I am not my words


I began writing poetry on March 2014 after being inspired by a sunset. I’ve always had a thing for poetry, but it wasn’t until last year that I began writing consistently. I’ve become attached to my poetry, and it’s become a big part of who I am. I share it on social media, I have an online portfolio for it, and I am currently working on publishing some of my poems. I love my poetry. But when it’s been over a week since I’ve been able to write a poem, or when I’ve started a poem and it’s been a month and I still haven’t finished it, or when I get a 70 in a poem in creative writing class, I tend to sulk because, confession: I find my worth in my poetry. And that’s not right. Because I am not my words. 

My words are a huge part of my identity, but they’re not who I am. My words aren’t me. And since we’re on the topic, I am not anything I do. I am not my poetry, I am not my art, I am not the things I like to do, and I am not the things I love. My love for myself cannot depend on the fact that I haven’t been able to write a new poem in a month. I cannot find my worth in the things I do, and I will never find it in them because my worth isn’t there. My worth doesn’t lie in the things I do, nor does it lie in the things I love. The things I do are a part of who I am, they might even be an important part of my self, but they are not me. They do not define me. And I cannot live my life looking for my worth in fleeting things. Because, surprise – that’s not where my worth is. 

Hey, friend. Your worth doesn’t lie in your dreams. It doesn’t lie in your desires. You won’t find your worth in other people’s opinions of you. You won’t find it in a relationship. You won’t find it in your accomplishments. You won’t find it in your mistakes. You won’t find it in your sin. Your worth, my dear, lies in the blood that was shed for you. Christ saw you and gave you an identity when He died for you. He thought you were worth his sacrifice. Your worth lies in a cross. Your worth was given to you by a God that made you, fearfully and wonderfully. Your worth is defined by the God that sings over you. You are worth so much more than what you are. Your worth cannot be measured by the standards of this world, dear. That’s how valuable you are. 

Your worth is in your bones. Your worth courses through your blood. Your worth doesn’t depend on anything or anyone other than Christ. Your worth is unwavering. You are not what you do. You are not what you love, you are not your dreams, you are not the people that left you, you are not your sin, you are not what others say about you. Your worth doesn’t fit in a box. You don’t fit in a box. 

“You’ve gotta know your worth, you’ve gotta let Christ whisper in the depths of who He made you to be and fill you with worth…you’re just gonna keep running towards something that yells your worth and you will not find it.” // Jennie Kerns